<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sunday, 7.30 AM by solarfloret</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855763">Sunday, 7.30 AM</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfloret/pseuds/solarfloret'>solarfloret</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!, ハイパープロジェクション演劇「ハイキュー!!」| Hyper Projection Play "Haikyuu!!" RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Farmer Kita Shinsuke, Fluff, Married Life, Post Timeskip, Reader-Insert, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29855763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfloret/pseuds/solarfloret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This time next week might just be the same. Sunday, she wakes up at 7.30 a.m, the three of them having breakfast together inside a small house with a cream-painted kitchen and yellow flowers on the dining table. Laughter fills the air. Adoration. Endearment. Love.</p><p>She has joy in her life, much of it. It’s more than enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke &amp; Family, Kita Shinsuke &amp; Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunday, 7.30 AM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"You and me—we can make this hole a home."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-</em>
</p><p>The sun is blinding the first time she opens her eyes. The curtains are rolled up, open wide, warmth seeping through the crack of the window. A sliver of sunray touches the back of her neck. She stretched out her limbs like a starfish, her body feels a bit sore. Perhaps it’s due to the hard work they have been doing in the past week harvesting the fields. Perhaps it’s because selling rice, vegetables, and fruits isn’t a task as easy as it sounds. Or perhaps, maybe, <em> possibly </em>, it’s for the reason of the actions and celebrations they were doing last night in the bed.</p><p>It’s Sunday, she knows without looking since it’s her favorite day of the week. Probably around 7.30 or 8 a.m. Shin will not let her sleep past 8 for it is one of his rituals to have breakfast together. He is, after all, a man who appreciates routines.</p><p>She knows his schedule very easily like she knows how many fingers she has or the shade of brown in his eyes. Kita Shinsuke wakes up at 6 a.m, walks to the bathroom, splashes cold water on his face. He brushes his teeth thoroughly and gargles his mouth with warm water plus salt that makes his morning kisses taste like the sea. The clock ticks to 6.30 a.m when he jogs to the barn—feeds the chickens, the ducks, the sheep, the buffalo, cleans the place, fills their drinker with fresh water. Shin then goes back home at 7.40 with beads of sweat on his forehead, and chooses to take a shower for another twenty minutes.</p><p>He does that every morning, every day, no exception, without cessations.</p><p>So when Shin walks in and gazes her still in the center of the bed, nestled in their mellow, fluffy sheets comfortably, he half scoffs in annoyance.</p><p>“Hey, you need to get up,” he says, voice stern. “Iichi’s been waiting for you.”</p><p>Still, she wins because he can never resist the expression on her face; the hug-me gesture plus a pair of eyes looking up at him lovingly. The cold silver band of Shin’s ring reaches the side of her cheek as he dives and plants a quick, simple, nice little peck on her lips. Stream of morning light lingers on his face, making his eyes a shade lighter and he smells like vanilla milk. She feels giddy and it makes her dizzy.</p><p>“Mmm. Good morning to you too, my love,” she replies groggily, lips grazing delicately over Shin’s cupid’s bow. “Don’t worry. I am getting up. Come help me up, Shin?”</p><p>And as she moves to stand up, Shin’s hands are gripping her sides strongly—as steady as the charismatic impression he leaves to the people around him. He stops staring and leaves the room only after making sure she starts slipping into some proper clothing, saying that he has already steamed the rice, made the miso soup, and fried the egg.</p><p>After splashing her face with cold water and brushing her teeth—because his way of life is rubbing on her by hook or by crook—she meets Shin again in the kitchen. Her portion is already served perfectly. Just like she knows him, he knows her in return—sometimes a little too much, it’s scary. He knows how she likes her egg and how much rice she usually takes. Also, the man is sitting on one of the chairs, not facing her, but towards another barely visible human. A three years old human with the biggest presence in the house ever since the first time she met him.</p><p>Her little son.</p><p><em>Their </em>little son.</p><p>Kita Seiichi.</p><p>When she gets closer and puts the palm of her hands on Shin’s back and Iichi’s hair, both of them are beaming, and she doesn’t know if she can feel happier than this. The atmosphere is tender. Soft. Loving. She feels belonged. She feels at home. She <em> is </em>at home.</p><p>“Kaachan!”</p><p>“Aw. Hi, Baby. Sorry, I’m sorry for oversleeping. Kaachan just feels sooo tired lately.”</p><p>And the baby in question giggles joyfully when he’s showered with her motherly kisses. Eyes round, fat hands reaching up, asking to be held. She picks him up from his seat and rocks him slowly. Another time, she inhaled the clean cotton of her son’s freshly put shirt before blowing a raspberry on his tiny shoulders. Ah, now she knows why Shin has been smelling like milk.</p><p>“Iichi-chan‘s been asking for Kaachan, hasn’t he?”</p><p>Shin translates Iichi’s gibberish for him while smiling. His gentle eyes twinkling softly. Unlike her wife, Shin never uses baby voices—he can’t see the point in it. Shin is the kind of person who likes to keep things straightforward. He states things and opinions as it should be, no sugarcoating, no shame in truth, and sometimes it could render people speechless in their tracks. Although she understands he was never cold in the first place.</p><p>But, on the other hand, Shin has this tone he reserved for exclusive audiences.</p><p>Like the one, he’s currently using for Iichi. Or the one Shin used when asking (and <em>re-asking, </em>again and again and again) if she’s okay with the idea of spending the rest of her life with him.</p><p>She can’t deny the flutter in her chest seeing her little family huddle together in the house every Sunday. She can only meet Iichi in the evening on weekdays. Shin’s grandmother takes care of the kid from Monday to Saturday when they both work in the fields. The wise lady probably has already taught him about the essence of life, the tales of the Gods, the virtue of living—filling his head with principles just like his father’s. And she respects those values too much to ever complain about it—besides, why should she? She is grateful for Shin’s grandmother, and treats the lady just as hers.</p><p>She is almost finished with her breakfast when Shin asks, “Are you sure you’re not too tired to hit the town?”</p><p>Iichi sits on his father’s lap; small, dainty fingers curling around a much bigger, rougher, more calloused model. Shin, who is not loud, but thoughtful and caring, showing his affections in more subtle ways. She understands and grins at him most sincerely. And he, for some reason, after all these years, after one kid and maybe more in the plan, still blushes in the light of the day. Heart beats faster.</p><p>“Yeah, of course. Iichi needs some new clothes. He’s getting bigger by the day and his old ones barely fit anymore.”</p><p>Shin looks down at his son, probably observing the kid’s growing figure and starting to realize that he is indeed getting heavier. He is a man who loves his son very much and shows it with a peck on the crown of the baby’s duotone hair. “Okay,” he responded. Simple and on the nail, but kind nonetheless.</p><p>“Ah! Also, if you’re okay with it, I want to give my old friend—whom I recently got in touch with—some fruits and vegetables from our harvest. Oh! Maybe you know her fiancé … he’s that volleyball player from MSBY? I mean since you’re still close with Miya-san?”</p><p>Shin scrunches his eyebrows. Profiles of MSBY players rolling in his head—all while entertaining his son by cracking one of his fingers. Laughter trickles as Iichi throws his head back. “Which one?”</p><p>“The tall one with spiky grey and black hair? Hmm, what position is he playing … well, I think he’s the ace?”</p><p>“Oh? Bokuto Koutarou?” His wife nods ever so excited so he continues. “I’ve met Bokuto-san once—Atsumu introduced us that one time when I came to their match—but that’s it. If she lives with him, maybe we can chat or something. If he remembers me.”</p><p>“Ah, I think he will!” She squeals with glee and tilts her head. “And yeah, she’s living with him. I heard he’s very welcoming, too, so I think you two can get along just fine. I’ll just let her know the three of us will visit.”</p><p>“I’m ready to go whenever you are.”</p><p>She hums lightly and finishes her breakfast feeling satisfied.</p><p>The sun is getting higher. The air is getting warmer. The room is getting brighter. As she cleans the table and washes the dishes, bubbles popping after reflecting her smile, she feels full. It’s home. It’s Shinsuke. It’s Seiichi. It’s her. They are home. They are safe. They are happy.</p><p>This time next week might just be the same. Sunday, she wakes up at 7.30 a.m, the three of them having breakfast together inside a small house with a cream-painted kitchen and yellow flowers on the dining table. Laughter fills the air. Adoration. Endearment. Love. No, she doesn’t—<em>will not</em>, she prays the hardest to Gods—regret having this simple life. She has joy in her life, much of it. It’s more than enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello!<br/>this is the first time i published a story on ao3 and look at it. very self indulgent. im having shinsuke brainrot. bokuto's fiance is from a discussion with my friend. as to why i needed to put her in.</p><p>anyway, if you like this do leave some kudos and/or comments to make my day! &lt;3</p><p>oh, and i made a playlist for this story: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BPFomKjzs4XroG2yvYvAz?si=oGgwBK90SNC8_Piziew5FA</p><p>(p.s: also, say hi to me @tsusamukins on twitter! would love to know you!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>